At least once a week, I’m told about what a severe injustice it is that my husband is deployed. As an overwhelming majority, folks can’t fathom how it is to be in my shoes. In the literal sense, they’re small and unsupportive, and in the figurative way, it’s unbearable, apparently. And acquaintances would like to let me know that as much as possible. It’s not a statement I fault them for; I do it too. Drawing personal experiences is how humans relate. And when there’s no memory to be found, we say things like, “I can’t imagine,” “I have no idea what you’re going through,” and “What is that even like?” A tactic I always pull with 9-to-5ers or anyone who has 20/20 vision. But here’s the thing: we don’t come pre-equipped in life. We learn once things happen. You swim by being in water. You get better at sports […]

Note: This post was originally written for a Southern magazine, which (nicely) rejected it for being too controversial. Their new topic request is your gain. The first date my now-husband ever took me on was for coffee, like an IRL cliché. At the counter, standing next to the 5’3″ scrawny girl, he told the barista his caffeine preferences: “I like my coffee how I like my women: strong and stout.” Which is just hot he got it: piping hot and without sweetener. The request was forward, and left me with few comments – which is probably what any man wants out of life: caffeine and a surefire way to keep their lady quiet. Blinded by the Southern drawl and weaponry adorned across his waist (his “belt knife”), I was too smitten to ask if that was the truth. Should I consider a tan? Would my homemade coffee need to be stronger? Those […]

Like any couple, my husband and I are asked – like, hundreds of times per day – how we met. People are interested. They want to know how we found each other. What circumstances in the universe that brought two strangers together. And at what point we decided it was forever – you know, the whole love story bit. All of the parts right until “happily ever after,” because after that it’s just the boring sections of life. Why else would fairytales use it as their closer? But our answer is always the same. Or rather, our separate answers are always the same. I fumble a little. While Bo, my now-husband, goes straight for the jugular. He tells them that we met online, and it was through Plenty of Fish. Because he has no fears, and I’m not as quick to admit to my semi-questionable choice in dating sites – no offense PoF, […]

Sometimes when I wake up, there is dog poop in the yard. Most days there is not. But on the calendar days that the dog(s) do strike, they ensure their contribution is very large and very smelly. There are enough suspects around that I can’t pinpoint the perp. There’s the yellow lab from two doors down who is sisters with the cat, the roamer, Bullwinkle, who sometimes naps out back, the two tennis ball chasers from across the street, and the other yellow one who is usually with his Mom … but never listens to her. All of these dogs exist, without leashes, throughout my neighborhood. Apparently, it’s a new initiative that promotes a cage-free lifestyle and defecating at one’s leisure. So long as it’s not in your own yard. Because why would you smell up grass when you can take care of business downwind? It’s likely one of the […]

Want to know what I did last week? Check out this video; it has all the answers. Once I stop having 12 zillion things to do, I’ll even tell you about it in more detail. Or not. Because being a newlywed is hard work, I’ve been told. So is moving. Working a full time job, being a mother to a cat who hates rules, and trying to not be completely anti-social. Be back soon, though. Promise!

It’s true. It’s been true – for not super long, but not super short. And now I’m ready to tell you about it. So read up or don’t, just don’t ask me in person like you didn’t get this very convenient announcement. Cause, much like burgers with cheese, I won’t be having it. First things first, I know everyone is just dying to know his nickname. And I’ve decided on – drumroll please – Bo. On account of several reasons. Because he’s Southern and there was a Duke cousin named Bo. Also because he loves shooting things, with bullets and with arrows. And most obviously, because he’s my beau. Except that I hate the 90s French spelling,* even if he does speak a fair amount of French. FAQs How’d we meet? Fate/irony. What does he do? Professional badass/traveler. You decide what that means; it’s not bounty hunting. Which part of […]

In case the news wasn’t’ already out, I’m from a small town. Like, don’t-need-proof-of-insurance-because-everyone in-the-County-Clerk-office-knows-your-dad-is-an-insurance-salesman small. (Yes that’s happened the past two years while paying my tags.) With a population of 4,334 (according to Wikipedia) and a community where everyone knows everyone … and their corresponding beeswax, my hometown has been the source of a lot of weird shiz over the years. Like the above. Or how there is almost never a line in the post office or bank. No, seriously. How my Aunt and Uncle live directly across the street from my grandparents. (After my cousin and his betrothed purchased their old house.) Or when there was a bomb threat and I picked up my siblings and cousins – all in one stop – from the church they’d been bussed to. Also the time I went to visit my Mom and cousin at their joint place of work, and […]